Page 49 of Satisfaction Guaranteed

He shouldn’t be here.

He thought himself strong enough to control it, to keep his wits about himself. Clearly, that was more foolish than coming here to begin with. Typically, he’d be at home, appointments canceled so he could lock himself in his house until the worst waves were over. But even the worst of it had never felt like this.

“I have to go,” he rasps. The disappointment in Alana’s expression guts him. But the moon is too bright, and the stares of those around him are starting to feel too heavy. He didn’t want to ruin her night, yet that’s exactly what he’s doing. “I’ll talk to you later. Just—” He steps back, tripping as he does so. “M’ sorry, okay? I just don’t want to do something I’d regret. I’m sorry.”

Cyrus turns on his heel and darts to his truck. He peels out from the yard, tires screeching as he drives back up that old dirt road without so much as looking back.

CHAPTER THIRTY

ALANA

Alana watches the dust settle from where Cyrus had sped off from the yard. As she tugs at the pendant he’d given her, tightness coils in her chest. The stone and metal embellishments are cold against the heat of her palm, and in a way, it grounds the thoughts currently spiraling in her head. What was that? That look he’d given her; he seemed so desperate—more raw than she’d ever seen before. When he’d pulled away from their kiss, desire was swimming behind his eyes in a sea of mahogany and amber. And beneath that, there’d been carnal lust, his sclera flickering from white to black, gold pouring through like spilled honey. He almost looked…pained?

I just don’t want to do something I’d regret.

Her heart does an unpleasant lurch, her free hand ghosts across the tiny cut that remained on her lip. A minuscule layer of blood coats her finger. Had she done something wrong? Pushed him too far? Her first reaction is to rush after him, see if he’s okay. But—

“Alana Nicole Darling.”

Frigid and biting, her government name cuts through the air with as much charm as claws against a chalkboard. The muscles along Alana’s jaw flex in response, and she closes her eyes before releasing a slow, steady exhale. Right. In the midst of their kiss, she’d forgotten there was an audience waiting outside the bubble she’d so frivolously escaped into.

How foolish.

Nana storms towards her with the same disconcerted scowl she’d been anticipating. The same one she always wore when her reputation was threatened. No matter how much Alana could’ve prepared herself for it, it sends an unpleasant drop to the lower half of her stomach.

“Have you lost yourself, Lana?” A vein in the older woman’s forehead visibly throbs. If she put a pin to it, it could burst. Neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper coils frame her angular features, her matching brows curved downwards. The thing about Nana Darling is that she isn’t the woman most expect when they think of the term grandma. There’s nothing frail about her, nothing particularly cuddly and non-assuming. She’s always stood tall, posture strong and her presentation neatly polished. Attention was demanded wordlessly, and respect along with it. Respect that Alana clearly wasn’t presenting well enough.

“What on earth was that?” she demands through gritted teeth.

Alana fights not to shrink from the look in her grandmother’s eyes—hardened and disappointed in all the ways she feared ever being directed towards her. This isn’t the Nana who usually regards her with such pride, such promise.

“What was what?” The typical veneration Alana so often reserved for her grandmother is replaced with a serrated edge. Impatience outweighs her dread and the cold anxiety crawling beneath the surface of her skin.

“You know good and damn well what. Don’t you play smart with me.” Nana’s frown deepens, as does the bass in her voice. “Who was that man? And in what world is sticking your tongue down his throat in front of your family an appropriate thing to do? Why, if it kept on for any longer, I was afraid we’d have to usher the young ones home!”

Though the music steadily plays and the people around them begin to disperse, Alana feels their gazes on her back, their ears tuned into their conversation. Hells, she’d be willing to bet money on them drafting some vague, passive-aggressive, gossip-fueled social media posts as they speak.

Messy, all of them. Insufferably so.

Alana swallows, her nails digging into her palms as they remain clenched by her side. “His name is Cyrus. I literally introduced you earlier. And to be honest with you? It probably isn’t. But making out with that man is far from the most inappropriate thing I’ve done with him. So I guess I just…didn’t care.”

Deep brown eyes widen a fraction. For a split second, Alana duplicates the woman’s surprise. But she doesn’t take the words back.

Nana sputters, and a purple color claims her dark skin, an angry, fed-up flush. “Excuse me? I know I didn’t just hear that right. Are you saying you—”

“Yes. Okay? Yes. For Gods’ sake, I’m seeing a man.” Well… kind of. It’s not like their kiss had come with an official claim. But seeing each other was an easier explanation than I paid him to fuck me and now I’ve caught feelings. “And to answer your concerns, no, I’m not married to him. No, that’s nowhere on the horizon. But I am sleeping with him. Or, I mean, I have slept with him. Not that that information is anyone’s business.” She says the last part louder than necessary, and it isn’t long before a majority of the Darling family is being persuaded by her mother to move inside. She makes a mental note to thank her.

Nana’s mouth drops with a rebuttal that Alana doesn’t allow. Tears burn her eyes, and she knows if she doesn’t put this to bed now, she may never find the nerve to do it again. She’d cower, convince herself that her grandmother’s approval is the only currency that matters. “I know you think this makes me less of a person or something. That now I’m… damaged goods, or a whore with no self-respect or whatever else. But I like Cyrus. He’s kind and sweet and, sure, I haven’t known him long, but he doesn’t make me feel judged, or stupid, or less than. He makes me happy. Having sex with him makes me happy. And if that means you’re going to hate me in return or look at me differently? Then fine. I’m going to have to learn to live with that. This is my life, Nana. I’m done living it for you or anyone else.” When she finishes, her heart thunders, and it’s as though her body wants to close in on itself, her insides twisting uncomfortably around her ribs until it feels like they could splinter beneath the pressure.

For what feels like a millennium, the only sounds are the distant timbre of slow blues and the buzzing of summer cicadas. All Nana does is stare. Her hands clutch the front of her blouse, her eyes roaming over Alana as if she doesn’t recognize her anymore. Not that she would. She’s a far cry from being the same little girl that she’s had tucked under her thumb. The girl terrified of a life outside of her Nana’s approval.

Nana eventually shakes her head, her jaw clamped shut. She settles with a sigh. Resigned. Heavy as stone. And when she looks at Alana, it’s with an expression she no longer knows how to place. Rather than say anything, Nana stares past her, retreating to the house without a single word.

Ice spikes through Alana’s veins. Their shoulders brush, deliberate on Nana’s part, and every cell in Alana wants to grab her. Apologize, take back what she said to mend what’s clearly too far gone to repair. Because she has to repair it, doesn’t she? If she doesn’t…

She lets Nana go. Releasing a shaky exhale, Alana grabs her pendant again and squeezes it tight. The icy ache doesn’t go away. It seeps from her chest down to her legs and cements her in place.

“Alana! Alana, hey.” Citlalli’s voice sweeps through the storm in her mind. Alana quickly wipes away the tears in her eyes, hoping their absence settles the worry lines etched between her friends’ furrowed brows. The feline shifter rushes to her side with a hand outstretched to rub her back. “Are you okay?”